


No Matter How Far Away You Roam

by enigma731



Series: The 12 Days of Chris Muss [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Peter Quill Earth Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 02:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: Here he is, back in his childhood bedroom, in his grandfather’s home, for no reason other than a visit. No Infinity Stones, no imminent danger. Just catching up on a long-overdue family Christmas.Here he is, lying awake next to Gamora, staring at the ceiling and feeling undeniably homesick.





	No Matter How Far Away You Roam

On the occasions when Peter’s been asked _why_ he spent so long avoiding Earth, he’s had a hard time putting it into words. 

Part of it _is_ the reminder of his mother’s death, as he’s said to so many people, so many times. But it’s not just that, and not like he isn’t reminded of that anywhere else. Hell, even the songs he loves so much, finds so much comfort in, are linked to her loss, in a way. 

Really, if he’s honest with himself, his fear of revisiting Earth had nothing to do with his mother, and everything to do with the idea of _home_. 

He’s spent the better part of thirty years with an empty ache inside of his chest, a longing where the comfort of home ought to be. Even on the Milano, even on Xandar. Even sometimes on the Quadrant, in the room he’s now shared with Gamora for _years_.

Earth had seemed the answer to that yearning, and yet. Yet here he is, back in his childhood bedroom, in his grandfather’s home, for no reason other than a visit. No Infinity Stones, no imminent danger. Just catching up on a long-overdue family Christmas. 

Here he is, lying awake next to Gamora, staring at the ceiling and feeling undeniably homesick. Glancing over at the clock -- the old school kind, with the numbers that actually flip -- he realizes he’s been tossing and turning for over an hour. Gamora is deep asleep, judging by her breathing, though he knows that won’t last too long, that she always wakes long before he does because her body requires far less rest. Pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head, he carefully slips out of bed and into the living room, switching on the dimmest of the lamps.

Fortunately, he’s already made the journey up to the attic, brought down all the boxes of potential interest he could find, including all of the ones that contain decorations. Opening the first one, he pulls out a strand of lights and considers. Ordinarily they’d go on the outside of the house, he knows, but it’s snowing heavily and also the middle of the night. Now that he’s gotten the idea, he doesn’t want to wait.

Instead, he starts with the railing on the stairs, wrapping three long strands of lights down the banister. The bulbs of these are tiny and multicolored, different from the larger ones he remembers from his childhood, but familiar enough that he still knows what to do with them. There are more lights leftover when he finishes with the stairs, so he takes the next set -- older, incandescent bulbs in the common teardrop shape -- and hangs them along the edges of the ceiling, drapes the ends of the strands inward to the fan. After that, there’s still a lighted wreath in the bin, which he hangs on the wall above the breakfast bar, and another long strand of tiny bulbs, this time all white. He contemplates those for a moment, then decides that the couch is a decent enough stand-in for a bush, even if that’s not particularly practical. He’s going for effect right now, not pragmatics.

He’s almost finished with that when Gamora comes in, her soft footsteps in the hallway immediately recognizable.

“Hey,” he calls quietly over his shoulder. “I’m almost done. Did I wake you?”

“Not with your activities out here,” she answers, which is probably her way of saying that she woke up and got concerned about his whereabouts. 

He’d feel guilty about that, but he’s far too excited to show her his handiwork with the decorations, all thoughts of sadness momentarily forgotten. “Wait there.”

When he finishes and straightens, she’s still standing obediently in the doorway to the living room, watching him curiously. He’s suddenly extra glad that he’s run all of the cords to one of those handy-dandy power strips his grandfather was so excited to show him, so all he has to do is flip a switch to turn all of the lights on at once. 

“Look!” he tells Gamora, bending to plug in the last cord, then flick the little button.

“ _Oh,_ ” she murmurs, her intake of breath audible as the lights come to life. The ones on the stairs are twinkling slowly, making colorful patterns on her face.

“You like them?” asks Peter, watching her reaction carefully. He’s pretty sure that she will, knows Gamora’s taste for beautiful things better than probably anyone else. Still, his heart is pounding as he waits for her to respond. 

“They are gorgeous,” she breathes, taking a few, slow steps into the middle of the room. She looks around slowly, gaze moving from the banister to the room’s periphery and then to the couch. Finally, she looks upward again, reaching up to gently brush a finger along the strand that’s hanging from the fan, as though she can scarcely believe it’s real.

“They’re for you,” says Peter, unable to resist. “I mean, kinda. Technically they’re for Christmas, but this is a private display.”

“I love them,” she says warmly, moving over to rest her hands on his shoulders, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas,” he tells her, though it’s still a few days too early.

It’s true, he realizes. Earth _has_ changed, irrevocably. But he’s different now too. His _life_ is different now. Maybe the past will always occupy a poignant corner somewhere inside of is chest.

But in moments like this one, he feels entirely complete.


End file.
